


Eternal Enimity

by AnimesChibia



Category: Hoshi no Kaabii | Kirby: Right Back at Ya!, Kirby (Video Games), Kirby - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Minor Character Death, Prequel, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2018-12-16 01:44:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11818599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnimesChibia/pseuds/AnimesChibia
Summary: This fic focuses on Meta Knight and his experiences in the war that took place before the anime. Note that this combines the canon of both the anime and the games, as well as some personal headcanons.





	1. Young Warriors

**Author's Note:**

> Well I'm already a shy bean. Hello, this is my first fic that I'm posting on a site like this. Please be gentle. ^^; Now this first chapter focuses a bit on Meta's childhood experiences, so that way you'll get a feel of what things were like for him before ge went off to war, and also to kinda establish some things in the universe early on, you know? Think of this and chapter 2 as a sort of pre-chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I'm already a shy bean. Hello, this is my first fic that I'm posting on a site like this. Please be gentle. ^^; Now this first chapter focuses a bit on Meta's childhood experiences, so that way you'll get a feel of what things were like for him before ge went off to war, and also to kinda establish some things in the universe early on, you know? Think of this and chapter 2 as a sort of pre-chapter.

So… This was the end. It was either him, or the one he’d go as far as to call his brother.

Meta Knight clutched his weapon, eyes narrowed in focus. To think the fates would be so cruel as to pit them against each other. Why did it have to come to this? They were on the same team. Why was this happening? Because whoever was in charge of this sad state of affairs was obviously a sadist.

Meta Knight rushed towards Jecra, idly aware he had kicked up dust as he did so. He saw the blonde do the same, clutching his own weapon.

Jecra was the first to strike. Fortunately, the hit was easy to block. A loud metallic clang sounded as the blue knight skillfully batted the enemy sword away from himself.

Meta Knight retaliated with a swing of his own sword. His former comrade protected himself using his shield. Another clang.

A second later, the round man found himself desperately trying to block a frenzy of attacks from Jecra.

_Clang!_

_Clang!_

_Clang!_

He swore he could taste iron in the air.

When an opening finally showed itself, Meta Knight batted both his opponent's shield and sword away in one swipe before running his own weapon through Jecra without thinking-

The young blonde boy dropped a blunt stick and piece of cardboard as he dramatically looked down at the narrow board of wood pressed firmly against his torso.

“Oooohhhh nnnnoooo!!! I have been bested by Sir Meta Knight!” he shouted before falling over onto the dusty ground theatrically, hands clutching where he was “stabbed”.

Putting on quite the show, huh? Meta couldn’t help the amused smirk as he watched his friend put on the theatrics. He lowered his wooden board as Jecra went on and on about “seeing the light” and such. It didn’t help that the violet skinned child was grinning goofily during the whole thing, pendant laying on his chest lopsidedly.

“Drama,” the blue Batamon said in a Spanish accent.

“Tell my wife and son; I love them! Bleh!”

“Boys! Meta, Jecra, it’s dinner time!” an adult voice called from the nearby shack, the accent matching Meta’s.

“Yes, father!” Meta called back before turning his attention back to his playmate, “Jecra, get up, it’s supper time.”

“I can’t, I’m dead, Meta,” Jecra said under his breath.

“Become a zombie, then,” the small blue child responded.

“Nah, I’m good with resting in peace,” the blonde answered.

Meta rolled his eyes.

“Jecra, you’re going to be resting in pieces if you don’t get up.”

“Carry me, I’m dead,” Jecra hummed.

Meta sighed before smacking his friend in the forehead with the board he had previously pretended was a sword, taking care to not hurt him.

“Ack! Ok ok ok, I’m getting up!” Jecra said as he jumped up to his feet.

Satisfied, he dropped the board and led the taller boy to the shack, running into a violet Ebbrian on the way inside.

“Well there you boys are. I was about to call you in next,” he said, looking down at the two children.

“Sorry, stepfather,” Meta responded, “Jecra was very very into his role as a dead person.”

“Way to throw me under the bus, dude,” Jecra snickered.

“Well get your hinies to the table before dinner gets cold,” the adult responded.

“On it, dad,” said Jecra before heading to the table.

There, a dark violet winged Batamon was already seated, obviously waiting for the children.

“Well took you rascals long enough. Did Jecra take too long dying again?” he said as the Ebbrian took a seat beside him.

“Aw don’t call me out like that, stepdad,” the blonde answered once he was seated, grabbing his spoon and dipping it into the broth, “Beet soup again?”

“Sorry, bud. Not much else left, and your father and I haven’t gotten this week’s pay yet,” the Meta’s father responded apologetically, giving a slightly guilty smile.

Meta narrowed his eyes at his father. No, they’ve talked about this. He’s not supposed to feel obliged to apologize for something that isn’t his fault! Stubbornly, the round boy took a spoonful of his soup, making sure most of them were beets, before shoving them in his mouth with a “hmph” to get his attention.

He saw his father blink before looking at him as he chewed.

Jecra’s father snorted a bit.

“I don’t think your son liked you doing that, Ulnare.”

Meta’s father grinned nervously.

“Ah… Right… No more of that, then?”

The young Batamon nodded in satisfaction as he swallowed his food.

“Bossy…” Jecra murmured playfully, earning him a harmless jab from his friend.

After dinner, the boys took their bowls to the water barrel and started cleaning them. Once their bowls were put away, they started heading to their bedrooms when…

“Wait, Meta. I need to see how your wings are coming along,” his father said

Meta heaved a sigh as he came to stop. His father always checked to see how far into development his wings have come. At this point, it was a bit annoying. He waited impatiently as his father came up behind him and ran a finger along the not fully formed limbs, tracing the structure and softly pressing on them. Always start at the shoulders of the wings, pressing around there before moving along slowly but surely. When he reached the wrist of the wings, he went to trace where the fingers of the wings would be. Well, are probably developing by now. He felt his father’s finger gently press on some thin, bone like whatever that was on his wings. Meta huffed in annoyance. This always took longer each day.

It wasn’t until he reached the ends of the wings was it over.

“Well, your wings are starting to develop fingers now. Won’t be long until they’re fully usable, Meta,” his father reported, sounding a little excited.

He knew it.

“Then you plan to teach me to fly, yes?” Meta said flatly, even if he already knew the answer.

He heard the Batamon hum an affirmative.

Truth be told, Meta had no interest in using his wings. He didn’t feel he’d need to. Besides, he was fairly certain that using him would only make him even less well received than he already was. He’d rather not deal with it.

Still, he supposed he could learn to fly to at least humor his dad. This was something that was really important to him, after all.

“Ulnare, it’s time to go to bed,” Jecra’s father said, “We both have work tomorrow, and Meta and Jecra have school in the morning.”

Meta heard his father chuckling a little bit in embarrassment.

“Coming, Briner.”

Right then, Jecra grabbed Meta by his nubby hand and headed to the other room, a worn mattress lying carelessly on the floor.

The boys went to their respective sides of their mattress and faced the opposite direction of each other.

Meta laid there completely still and quiet for a moment, listening with his sharp sense of hearing. When hearing nothing, he carefully scooted closer to the edge of the mattress and started digging around under it. It took a bit before he found what he was looking for; a half full small box of matches. He found it last week in an alleyway on the way home and hid it on his side ever since. The last time he brought home something random he found on the street, his father freaked out and confiscated it, then proceeded to check and see if the boy had hurt himself with it. For though, to be fair, matches were much more useful and valuable than some rusty knife, and he didn’t want to lose the matches too.

As quietly as he could, he lit the match on the dirty, cracked, concrete floor. Then with the very little light the match produced, Meta searched for the book by the bed.

_Ah, there it is…_

Putting the unlit tip in his mouth, he grabbed the book with both hands and quickly turned to the dog eared page before getting the match back out of his mouth.

Right then the match’s fire got a bit too close to his nub. He waved it quickly to put it out before digging around for another match and lighting it. He looked down at the page, trying to search for where he was last time.

_Ah, there it is…_

_And while he was successfully imprisoned, the relationship with winged and horned Batamon did not improve. They in fact were rounded up so as in to be executed, the feather winged were the first to go, followed by most of the horned ones. Eventually, the galactic rulers settled with keeping the survivors in camps, and that is where they stayed for centuries-_

“Ooooo… You’re staying up… I’m telling,” Jecra whispered teasingly.

A good thing he did, too, because the fire was getting dangerously close to reaching his nub. Hurriedly, he put it out.

“No you won’t,” Meta responded softly as he dug around for another match.

Jecra knew by now about Meta’s tendency to stay up to read, and he was nice enough to not tell their dads about it. Of course, Meta felt kind of bad for keeping him up whenever he did this.

“So, what part are you on, Meta?” Jecra asked, sounding genuinely curious.

He didn’t answer. He was at the ugly part of history, the part after Galacta Knight was sealed away.

_You’d think everything would be ok after the only threat was gone…_

Well, at least those times were over. Otherwise he’d be in those camps too. Actually, no, he just wouldn’t exist. His mother didn’t have wings, and he’s pretty sure his paternal grandfather didn’t have wings either. Of course, he only had his father’s words to go by when it came to his grandfather, seeing as he’s never met any of his grandparents. It was pretty easy to die of anything that isn’t age around these parts. It was considered an achievement to survive to your middle ages here, actually.

“Meta?”

Oh, right, Jecra still wanted to know. He hesitated.

“Uhm… Galacta Knight got sealed away…” Meta said slowly as he brought up another match, finally.

“And what happened after that?”

“... The camps…”

Well, he didn’t need to know about the execution part. He can live without that knowledge.

“Ah… Those internment camp things, right?”

The blue Batamon lit another match and nodded.

“It’s times like these that make me realize that our galaxy’s history sucks…” Jecra muttered.

“At least we’re all learning from them…” the round child said quietly.

“Not fast enough…” grumbled the hybrid boy.

True, there were still… issues, but at least it wasn’t bad…

“The match is about to burn you,” Jecra added, causing the other to quickly put it out again.

“Well, even if things aren’t the best now, it’ll all get better soon… For everyone…”

Really, hybrids like Jecra weren’t exactly well received either. Jecra was just good at defending and standing up for himself. He takes nonsense hate from no one.

“Yeah… It better…” Jecra murmured.

Meta sighed before putting the book and the box of matches away. That was probably enough for the night.

“Going to bed already? Ah man, I didn’t mean to ruin your mood.”

Meta shook his head, even though the other boy couldn’t see it.

“You didn’t. I just felt a bit tired is all…”

“If you say so… Good night Meta.”

“Good night, Jecra…”

* * *

Meta woke up after a rather unpleasant dream. Nightmares seemed to be a problem everyone was getting, and he didn’t remember a time where even one person had a nice dream. He even noticed some of the adults looked worn out after a night of sleep.

Jecra was already up, putting on his clothes for the day.

“Well good morning, sleepy head,” the blonde said playfully as he noticed the other child sitting up.

Jecra had a weird tendency with waking up earlier than him. Whenever Meta asked, the violet boy would always grip onto his pendant, saying that he didn’t want to talk about it. While Meta by no means knew people well, he knew Jecra well. The pendant was an heirloom from his late mother’s side, so telling by the way he held it while on the topic of his bad dreams, Meta could only assume it had something to do with his mother.

“Morning… Meta murmured as he rolled off the mattress, already regretting leaving the warmth of their bed.

“Hurry up and change shoes, Meta. We need to hurry up and get to school.”

The Batamon hummed in reply as he went over to his pile of slippers. Well, time to see which ones don’t have holes… Most of them were shades of pink, and while he was teased for it occasionally, he liked pink anyways, so there.

_Let’s see… Holes in that one… Holes… Oh, here’s one with patches. Good enough. Can I find a match with the same shade of pink…? No… No… No… Ah, there it is!_

Hurriedly, Meta slipped off his current slippers in trade for the ones he picked. Then with that, the boys rushed out the bedroom doorway, and out the house, Meta lagging behind to lock it behind them. Their fathers were most likely already at work by now.

After running along the sidewalks, taking alleyways as shortcuts, partially to avoid the dirty looks of other people, the boys reached the school. The school itself was a dull light blue and one story tall, made out of brick like schools typically are. The doors were metal with skinny rectangle shaped windows on the upper halves. The grass on the school grounds were yellowing, however, the sun made them look like that were sparkling, possibly suggesting that it was recently tended to. Either that, or those were just dew drops.

The two headed for one of the doors, and Jecra push it open with ease, a faint squeak sounding as he did. There, they came into a hall full of lockers, some of the doors dented, scratched on, or damaged in any other way. Some of their peers were going through their lockers, getting some of the things they needed for class.

“Well, I’ll see you in Language Arts, Meta. Take care of yourself until then, bro,” Jecra said before going to look for his locker.

“See you…” Meta muttered before heading to his own locker.

When he reached it, he cringed at the writing on the door. The other kids had a tendency to give him just the most  _pleasant_  messages on his locker. If you read pleasant as the complete opposite of that word, that is.

 _How can you even_ _reach_ _, runt?_

 _Just cover your wings already! It’s_ _rude_ _showing them to the whole world!_

_I’m surprised you haven’t at least destroyed the school yet, Galacta._

_Mind leaving, freak?_

And it just goes on and on and on. With a sigh, he spat on his nubby hand and started wiping the marker off his locker door.

Unfortunately, Jecra gets these kinds of messages on his locker too, as Meta’s seen one time. They mostly consisted of insults about Jecra being a hybrid, but also sometimes insulted him for being friends with Meta in the first place.

“It’s fine,” Jecra had said, “They’re from stupid cowards that are just afraid to say it to my face.”

Meta never doubted that. After an incident involving Jecra socking one of them in the mouth for insulting his heritage to his face, the kids were too scared to shout their insults at him.

Meanwhile, the blue boy simply ignored them, hoping they’d lose interest and leave him alone eventually. He tried telling the teacher one time, but that did nothing, and he didn’t want to scare his father by letting him know. So his strategy was to not speak of it, and make sure his friend didn’t let it slip to their dads about his issues. Just ignore it, and they’ll stop. One day. Maybe.

By the time he managed to clean off as much of the ugly messages as he could, his hand was covered in a fusion of many colors that made one very ugly hue. Whatever, he can clean it during lunch time, anyways. Not like he even eats lunch anyways. After entering his combinations, Meta opened the locker and took out the assignments and supplies he’d need for his first class, which was math.

Once he got everything he needed, he rushed to class, hoping not to trip over someone’s foot again.

When he reached his destination, quietly, he headed for his heavily carved on desk, setting everything down and organizing them. The walls in the room were a sickly, dark dull yellow, one of which was patched up by a board of wood nailed over the hole. The wall in the front of the room had a few posters hanging on it with simple formulas, mostly areas and perimeters.

“In class early again, Meta…?”

Meta looked up at the teacher, an old snowman like creature with cloudy eyes, and nodded.

“I see you dad still hasn’t gotten you a cape…” the teacher said with unamusement.

The child stayed silent for a moment before nodding.

“He said he’ll get me one after I learn to fly…” he said quietly.

He always had teachers passive aggressively commenting on his developing wings being in full view of the galaxy. He never understood why this teacher of all people was doing it as well. He was one of the few that knew how it was. He was a spawn of a monster, after all, right? Monsters were absolutely hated.

The Chilly hummed in thought.

“You know… I’m fairly certain your life would be so much easier if you covered your wings… If I could cover the fact that I’m a Chilly, believe me, I would do it in an instant…” he said idly.

Of course, because he thinks he’s looking out for him. He’s appreciative of his intentions, he really was, but it was only making him feel more ashamed of himself.

“I know, Mr. Flake…” the child mumbled.

He hated this conversation.

Before Mr. Flake could continue, more students came in through the doorway.

“Ah, yes, hello, children,”

“Morning, Mister F.”

“Hey, Flakey, what’s up?”

“Yeah, good morning to you too.”

“Hello, Mr. Flake, sir.”

Meta quickly finished situating himself before ducking down looking at one of the unfinished homework assignments. Thank goodness these are only due by the end of the week or his grades would suffer greatly, and the thought of failing, or even getting anywhere near failing, scared him.

He ignored the paper ball thrown at his back as he scribbled down a perimeter formula for a triangle.

* * *

 

Jecra and Meta had left the school building, heading home. School was always horrible, especially for these two, but at least they could go to school. At least, that’s what Meta kept saying to himself. His mom would want him to learn as much as he could. That’s why she taught him to read back when she was still alive.

“So, were classes alright for you?” Jecra asked casually.

Meta merely nodded.

“I didn’t see you at recess. Were you hanging out at Mr. Flake’s class again?”

Another nod.

“I had some homework I needed to get done…” the round boy murmured.

It was then he felt something hit one of his wings. He paused, trying to register what happened.

“What in the Void!?” Jecra exclaimed turning his head to face where it came from.

Meta didn’t even move to turn to face them.

“Hey Galacta, when are you going to stop showing off your wings!? You’re scaring the babies!” a child voice called out behind them.

“Yeah! Or better yet, go back to the other side of the wormhole, you freak of nature!” another one spat.

He felt his nubby hands slightly hooked to form the closest thing to fists they could be without fingers.

“I was born and raised here like the rest of you…!” Meta replied as calmly as he could.

“Yeah right, Galacta!”

His other wing had something thrown at it too.

 _Rock,_ he realized, _They’re throwing rocks at me._

“Alright, babes, cut it out!” Jecra snapped.

“As soon as he goes home!” one retorted.

Another rock.

Meta was shuddering slightly now.

_Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry-_

“We _were_ going home when you started throwing rocks at him!”

“Guys, look, he’s shaking!” another child said.

“What are you going to do, Galacta? Destroy us?!”

“Oh crap, guys! I think he actually is Galacta! He looks like he’s turning pink!”

“Quick throw another rock before he does something!”

Meta squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for another rock to hit him. Surprisingly, no rock landed on him, even though he heard impact on flesh. Meta opened his eyes and turned to see Jecra reeling his arm back as if getting ready to throw something.

“Wh- Jecra no-”

Too late. The rock was sent flying. Meta turned to see who it would hit.

A sherbert orange Batamon with a flower in her hair fell backwards as the rock hit her square in the face. Jecra was beside himself in laughter.

“Oh crap!” a Cappy child said, dropping his rock.

“I am so sorry about this!” Meta called, pulling on the boy’s arm, “Jecra, we’re leaving!”

“Bye babes, see ya later~” Jecra said, waving at them as if he was bidding a loved one farewell.

“Jecra, no!”

“Jecra yes!”

“Jecra, I swear to The Stars, I am going to kill you when we get home!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God damn it, Jecra, you little shit. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it. ^^ If you have any advice for touching this up, please let me know. I feel like a few moments I wrote coulda used a little work, you know?


	2. Typlical Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day starts out normal, until Jecra and Meta Knight spot a new poster...

At this point, he was growing bored waiting for any dumb target to come along. He sighed heavily as he stayed behind the dumpster. Were people finally becoming smarter? They better not be. He needed to eat.

Right when he finished that thought, he heard voices. Two of them. Same gender and around the same age, it seemed. Adolescent boys.

“-Look like someone that’s trying to get me to join the Dark Side, Meta,” said one of them.

“Why do we even hang out again…?” The other asked dryly.

“Because you love me and you know it!”

He peeked out from behind the dumpster to see his would be victims. They were both male teenagers, like he guessed before. Different species, though. One looked like a combination of an Ebbrian and… Something else he didn’t know. He had purple skin with pointed ears and blonde hair, and he wore the most shit eating grin he’s ever seen on any snot nosed kid. The other was a Batamon, quite small even for his species and age. He couldn’t quite see his face, due to the hood obscuring his eyes and the way he wrapped the cloak around himself hiding the rest of his face, but his posture told him that he was maybe slightly annoyed.

Something shiny caught his eye. One of them the taller one, had a necklace with a blue gem of some sort in the middle of the pendant.

_ Well that might fetch a good price… _

And who knows what other valuables these stupid kids had on them. He brandished his rusty knife and waited until they were close enough before jumping out in front of them.

“Alright, empty your pockets of everything you have or your flesh gets acquainted with my little friend here!” he shouted, pointing his knife at them.

He was taken aback by the boys’ first reaction to the threat. They merely exchanged glances, the hybrid giving a knowing grin.

Oh geez, this was already a bad sign.

“Actually, we have a better idea, sweet thing…” the taller boy said as the Batamon hopped over the bandit, landing behind him.

He spun around to face the blue teen, seeing him brandish a long, narrow board in his hand, what appeared to be stumpy fingers gripped tightly onto it.

_ Oh shi- _

“Training time!” he heard the boy shout behind him before feeling a painful crack against his back. The force somehow knocked him off his feet and sent him flying towards the Batamon, who whacked him back at the other.

Through the pain hazing his mind, he was vaguely aware of how humiliating this was. Not only were a couple of kids actually beating him, but he was almost like a ping pong ball. And it didn’t help that it seemed like the boys were exchanging banter between each other.

By the time the boys were done with him, he was having trouble staying conscious, let alone standing. The Batamon was back to having his little cloak tightly wrapped around himself, he noticed. He hazily watched as the boy approached him calmly. He then seemed to bend down to reach for something. It wasn’t until he came back up did he know what he was getting.

_ My knife… He’s taking my knife… _

“So you won’t hurt anyone else with this…” he heard him whisper before finally losing consciousness.

***

The Batamon watched as his friend prodded their would be mugger with his blunt stick.

“Wow, he fainted faster than the last guy. That’s a new record,” Jecra said as he took his place beside Meta.

Meta shrugged as he led the other out of the alleyway.

“I guess that’s a sign we’re getting stronger?”

He saw the hybrid nod.

“I think that means we’re ready to read some more from mom’s scrolls,” Jecra said excitedly.

Ever since Jecra and Meta’s near mugging a few years ago, Jecra’s father had finally decided to show the boys the family scrolls, something he planned on waiting to show when they were older, so they would know how to defend themselves. Jecra was already a little ways along, since his mother started teaching him a couple of moves before her untimely passing, and Meta was apparently a fairly quick learner.

“Hey, Meta, which ones are next again?” Jecra asked.

The Batamon hummed a bit in thought, idly twirling the rusty knife in his developing fingers. They would need to see when they get home.

“Meta, sometimes I wonder if you’re a hoarder,” the taller boy teased, earning a hard to see eye roll.

“I pawn these off every other week. You know that,” Meta sighed.

“Hoard-er.”

“I hate you, sometimes, you know that?”

“No you don’t.”

Meta sighed as they exited the alleyway, back onto the sidewalks, filth littering the streets. They passed a hastily taped on poster with a symbol Meta assumed was some sort of insignia of a gang or something. They passed other posters too, but most of them were more strategic in their placements, and a lot of them were job opportunities at some sort of store or something, so on and so forth. They didn’t pay much attention.

Meta noticed a couple of people staring at him as he seemed to glide past them.

“Bro, people are looking at you,” Jecra said, apparently not aware he was pointing out the obvious.

“Yes, well at least they take me more seriously with this on,” Meta mumbled.

“I don’t,” the other replied with a snicker.

“But you don’t take anyone seriously,” the Batamon pointed out.

“Fair enough,” the violet skinned boy agreed with a shrug.

After a bit more walking, Meta stopped hearing the other’s footsteps behind him. Panicking a little, he turned to look for him. To his relief, he wasn’t that far behind, just staring at one of the posters.

_ Did Jecra find a job offer that interested him or something? _

The blue teen walked up to Jecra, curious as to what he was doing. He looked up at the poster, and instantly, one in particular caught his eye.

“The GSA is coming to this planet?” he mused.

“According to this, in a few years, yeah…” Jecra answered.

“That’s odd… The only time they’d let us know this early ahead of time is if…”

“They know a Star Warrior is coming of age around this time…”

The GSA, or the Galactic Soldier Army, had visited different planets to recruit new people, and occasionally find Star Warriors. They were made up of two forces that opposed Enemy in this ongoing war that was started generations ago. The forces were the Galactic Soldiers, essentially an army of willing recruits, and the Star Warriors, a group of specific people that were said to have been born to fight in the name of the Stars themselves. Nobody really knew what qualifications were needed to have the title of Star Warrior, or how they were found or spotted. All they knew was that Star Warriors were just… born to be such.

“You think there’re any Star Warriors among us…?” Jecra asked.

Meta shook his head.

“Ah, probably not… Any Star Warrior is probably closer to the planet’s capitol…”

Jecra snickered.

“You think any posh capitol dweller could even stand fighting, let alone fight in a war? They’d be more concerned about messing up their hair or something.”

Meta rolled his eyes.

“Come along, Jecra, we need to get home before we worry our fathers…”

“You mean yours.”

“Quiet, you.”

***

“There you boys are!” Meta’s father exclaimed, rushing over to the boys to squeeze them in a hug, “What took you so long!?”

“Ulnare, calm down, these two are only a few minutes later than usual…” Jecra’s father murmured to him soothingly, rubbing the dark Batamon’s back.

“Ten minutes!” the other adult said, sounding a little louder than he probably meant to.

“Told you so,” Jecra whispered with a grin.

“Father, we’re fine. We just got challenged by a bandit and saw an interesting poster today,” Meta said, ignoring Jecra.

“They didn’t hurt you, did they!?” Ulnare asked.

“No no, we’re fine. He didn’t even get the chance to land a hit on us…”

“Not that I expected anything less from you two,” Jecra’s father said with a smile.

“Thank the Stars…!” the older Batamon sighed, “Also, Jecra, you’re grounded,” he added jokingly.

“Dangit!” Jecra responded, snapping his fingers in exaggerated disappointment.

“What was the poster you saw, boys?” Briner piped up.

The other adult released the boys, looking at them curiously.

“The GSA’s coming to the planet a few years from now,” Meta responded.

The adults looks between each other before looking back at him and Jecra.

“And I’ve heard before that they pay Galactic Soldiers pretty well,” Jecra cut in, catching Meta off guard, “and I’m gonna be a legal adult then, and I’ve come a long way in my training, so maybe-”

“No,” Ulnare said simply.

Jecra looked taken aback by that response, as if he didn’t expect it.

“No? What do you mean ‘no’? You didn’t even let me finish-”

“Because I know what you’re going to say, and no, you are not joining the Galactic Soldiers,” the adult Batamon cut in sternly.

Jecra made a face that could only suggest annoyed bewilderment.

“Why not? When I’m an adult, I’m going to be old enough to make my own decisions! Besides, I could make enough to get us out of the slums!”

“Jecra, you  _ know _ people that join the GSA never come back home! I’m not letting you be one of them!” Meta’s father argued.

“Uh, Ulnare, let’s calm down…” Briner said tentatively.

“Well what if this is the generation the war ends, stepdad?!” Jecra argued.

“Jecra, I think it unwise to argue it any further…” Meta piped up.

He wasn’t liking where this was going…

“You don’t know that it is!” the winged Batamon retorted, his volume raised maybe a bit higher than he meant to.

“Even then, it’s a career choice that involves protecting the innocent, just like mom did! She would have wanted that!” Jecra yelled louder.

“Jecra-” the Ebbrian started.

_ Oh no- _

“Well she’s not here! That’s what got her killed in the first place!” Ulnare snapped.

Jecra’s eyes widened at those words. Then slowly but surely, his face shifted into a glare, his eyes brimming with tears. Meta saw his father’s eyes widen in realization, as if he didn’t know what he had said until right after he said it.

“J-Jecra, I-”

The hybrid was hearing none of it. Quickly, he spun to the opposite direction and dashed out the door.

“Jecra, wait!” Meta called before shooting a glare at his father, “Real sensitive, father…!” he said acidly before taking off out the door.

Meta wasn’t really paying attention to the scenes whizzing past him as he ran, only to the taller boy in front of him running.

He wasn’t sure when they stopped, it could only have been minutes though. Meta felt maybe barely winded. What he did know was that he was watching his step brother, panting and throwing rocks at a tree near the rundown old playground.

_ Ah, memories… _ Meta thought idly as he casually walked up behind the blonde.

“I know you’re upset, but what did that tree ever do to you?” Meta asked, his tone a bit light.

Jecra stopped to look back at the shorter teen, his eyes slightly wide as he looked down at him. Meta didn’t usually make even an effort at humor, mostly because he wasn’t 100% sure on how. The attempts were usually for trying to cheer up Jecra.

Meta noticed the tree lost a lot of bark, reminding him of how messed up that girl’s face was when the purple skinned boy threw a rock at her back when they were younger.

“That tree is defenseless. I thought you were supposed to stand up for those that couldn’t stand up for themselves.”

Jecra snorted slightly before dropping the rocks to give the shorter adolescent a harmless smack on the arm.

“Good try, bro…” he said before furrowing his eyebrows, his eyes returning to the tree.

Meta sighed. Yeah, he really wasn’t good at cheering people up. That was always Jecra’s talent.

“I’m sorry about father’s outburst… He can be a little… thoughtless sometimes…” Meta apologized.

“It’s fine Meta… You’re not responsible for his fat mouth…” the blonde mumbled.

He wasn’t even sure he was really paying attention. With a sigh, Meta sat down, patting the ground to tell his friend to sit as well. Jecra obeyed with a slump. To try to calm him down, Meta rubbed his back. Well, what he could reach of it anyways.

Fortunately, it wasn’t long before Briner had entered the scene, much to the young Batamon’s relief.

“Hey boys. Mind if I sit here with you?” he asked.

“If you want to, yeah…” Jecra answered.

The Ebbrian sat down next to his son.

“Look, I know you’re upset about what your stepfather said-”

“And I don’t know why you’re not,” Jecra interrupted, “Where does he get off saying this crap? And using it as a justification for trying to dictate my life!? How are you not angry?!”

Briner interlaced his fingers patiently.

“Look, I know, what he did is wrong. And no, I didn’t like him bringing up her… passing… But you have to understand, he loves you, and he’s just worried about you… We’re not the only ones that’s lost someone after all…”

The round teen noticed the adult man looking right at him.

“Right, Meta?”

He let out a sigh. His mother, he meant his birth mother. He didn’t remember all the details, something to do with a lung disease. She always had rather weak lungs, and they didn’t have good hospitals… He twiddled his nub thumbs a little awkwardly.

“... Yeah, I know…” Jecra murmured.

His face was starting to relax, Meta noticed.

“And Ulnare was friends with your mother, you know that… At this point, he just doesn’t want to lose anymore of his family…” the blonde’s father continued.

“I mean, yeah, I get it, but… it’s still screwed up he’d use her death as a reason that I shouldn’t join, you know…?” the hybrid said.

“I know, Jecra… I know…” his father whispered, gently pulling his son into a hug. “You see where he’s coming from, though, right…? The war has been going on for thousands of years, and it still hasn’t ended… War in of itself is a scary thing, and when you talk about joining the biggest war there is, well… The thought scares him… It scares him crazy…”

Jecra snickered slightly.

“What, you’re not scared to lose me or something, dad?” he joked.

Briner laughed a little.

“Trust me, I am… But if you think it’s really something you want to do, I won’t stop you… Just… You have a few years until they get here… Just try and think about if it’s something you really  _ really _ want to do… Ok…?”

“You got it, dad…”

Meta shifted a bit. He felt a bit out of place in this moment, like he shouldn’t be here, or that it’s supposed to be private. He felt a little weird watching.

After maybe less than half a minute, Jecra and his father stood up. Quickly, Meta followed suit.

“Come on, boys, it’s time to get home.”

“Right…” Meta responded as Jecra started back towards their house.

However, he felt a hand on his shoulder. The blue skinned teen looked up at the Ebbrian.

“I uh… I kinda owe you an apology, Meta…”

The Batamon raised a curious eyebrow.

“When I brought up your mother… That can’t have been pleasant for you…”

Oh… Well, true, he was a little uncomfortable with that. But to be fair…

“It is fine. You were just trying to prove a point. I get it.”

His stepfather smiled.

“I just wanted to be sure you were ok…”

“I appreciate it, stepfather-”

“Guys! What’s taking you so long!?” Jecra shouted from across the street.

Jecra’s father chuckled lightly before leading Meta towards the teen.

“You do know you can let me know if I do something that upsets you though, right?”

“Of course,” Meta said with a nod.

***

The first thing they were greeted with was Jecra getting a big bear hug from Meta’s father.

“Jecra I’m so sorry! I didn't mean it!” the Batamon cried.

“Gah! St-Stepdad calm down!” the hybrid responded, sounding a little choked.

Jecra’s father chuckled from behind Meta.

“Ulnare, take it easy.”

With that, the adult Batamon released the boy.

“S-Sorry…! I just…”

“Stepdad, it’s fine,” Jecra said, patting his head lightly, “We’re cool.”

The hybrid looked over at Meta.

“C’mon, bro, let’s go have a look at mom’s scrolls.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long. I was kinda nervous about the quality of this chapter. The next chapter will be where things start picking up.


End file.
